


Give Me a Sign

by stormylullabye



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: American Sign Language, But Gabe Loves Him Anyway, Deaf Character, Disabled Original Character, Fluff, M/M, Tyson is Also Oblivious, Tyson is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormylullabye/pseuds/stormylullabye
Summary: Gabe and Tyson visit the Denver Children's Hospital. Tyson becomes enamored by a three year old deaf girl and decides to learn sign language to talk to her. There is a teensy bit of hurt/comfort, but this is largely sticky sweet fluff. In which Tyson is a giant teddy bear on the inside.





	Give Me a Sign

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hock_hug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/gifts).



> If you are in this story or know someone who is in this story, please stop now, for everyone's sake. This is a work of pure fiction that just happens to be based very loosely on actual people.
> 
> Written for Hock_hug for Hockey Holidays 2018! 
> 
> Thanks to Hock_hug for the lovely author letter that inspired me to write this. I hope you love it a whole lot! Thanks to somehowunbroken for betaing! All the internet points to you.

"I'm off today, asshole!" Tyson mumbles in the direction of his cell phone, which is, for some reason, ringing at nine o'clock in the morning on his day off. Against his better judgment, Tyson breaks out of his blanket cocoon and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. Out of his one open eye, Tyson sees the obnoxiously attractive, smiling face of his captain. He sighs as he realizes that Gabe has taken yet another stupid selfie on Tyson's phone and set it as his call picture. "Landy, what? It's my day off. I'm sleeping," Tyson answers.

"Morning, beautiful!" Gabe's chipper voice responds. Tyson's heart, the traitor, speeds up.

"Morning people," Tyson groans. "How are morning people a thing?" Gabe chuckles softly on the other end of the phone.

"I've been up for hours, four."

"Of course you have. I haven't. Why are you on my phone?" Tyson responds. Gabe laughs again, louder this time.

"What? I can't call my best friend on his day off and see if he's busy?" Gabe asks mildly.

"Why are you being such a nerd, Landy?" Tyson asks. He's not sure that he's ever heard Gabe refer to him as his 'best friend' in any serious context before.

"Actually," Gabe begins, "I really was wondering if you have any plans today." His voice has lowered to a more serious tone.

"Uh," Tyson responds, eloquently. "What's today?"

"October 29th," Gabe responds. "It's a Monday."

"Right," Tyson replies. "Um. Well, aside from sleeping past nine o'clock in the morning, _Landy_ , not really. I'll probably get food with Nate later or something." Tyson rolls onto his back and throws his other arm across the bed. They both know he won't be getting back to sleep now.

"Great!" Gabe responds, sliding right over the fact that he ruined Tyson's morning with his stupid chipper voice and smiling selfie face.

"Am I going to agree that it's great?" Tyson asks, dread already filling his voice at the thought of anything Gabe would refer to as 'great.' "I'm really not into the idea of a long hike or any sort of 'who can do the most in the gym' challenge. I concede. You win. You're going to beat me anyway." Gabe's laughing again, and Tyson has no idea how one person can have so much humor at nine o'clock in the morning.

"Nothing like that, Tys," Gabe assures him. "I, uh, actually…" he trails off, which is not a good sign. An uncertain Gabe is a rare thing and it almost always leads to Tyson making a fool of himself. "I wanted to ask if you would do me a favor."

"What's the favor?" Tyson asks, careful subject himself to anything before he knows what it is, at least.

"You know how EJ wasn't feeling great after the game last night?" Gabe asks.

"Yeah," Tyson agrees.

"Well, he and I were supposed to do a community outreach thing today, but he's not up for it." Gabe says.

"Okay," Tyson replies slowly.

"Apparently Sakic promised two players, so it'd be lame if I showed up alone. Help?" Gabe asks, and Tyson can almost see the sheepish smile on Gabe's perfect face. Tyson rolls his eyes.

"Fine." Tyson answers. The edge in his voice is half sleep and half for show. He typically enjoys community outreach events and he always enjoys spending time with Gabe, even if he does act like an idiot half the time, so all in all it shouldn't be too bad. "When? Where?"

"You're the best, Tys," Gabe replies. "It's at the Children's Hospital at noon. Just the normal tour the place, hand out autographs, take lots of pictures kind of thing. I made sure to call early so even you would have enough time to get ready to take respectable pictures." Tyson's used to the guys chirping him for caring enough to take the time to get properly clean in the shower. Normally, he would protest, but he was only half listening to anything Gabe said after the words "Children's Hospital" had come out of his mouth. Tyson can hardly stand to visit there. It upsets him too much. He goes each year for the team's annual Christmas visit, but he makes sure to do his community outreach in other ways for the rest of the season. He even talked to the PR team about it. Obviously, Gabe hadn't reached out to PR before deciding who to ask to sub in for EJ, because they wouldn't have told him to call Tyson. “Tys?” Gabe asks. “You with me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Sounds good. I’ll meet you there?” Tyson asks faintly. If he knew what was good for him, he would back out now. He should pretend to remember an unavoidable dentist appointment or something—anything—to get out of this. But Tyson has possibly never said no to Gabe before and isn’t about to start now.

“Sure,” Gabe replies. “You good? You don’t usually space on me like that.”

“You woke me up,” Tyson replies, throwing a “nerd” on the end for good measure. “See you at noon.”

****

Tyson pulls up to the hospital at 11:45 and sits in his car for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts. He is thankful, again, that he doesn’t play in Vancouver and never has to face going back to that particular children’s hospital. He’s also thankful that he isn’t a Canuck for reasons unrelated to location, but that’s beside the point. The point is that he had spent hours with his friend Braden at BC Children’s Hospital and seen entirely too many kids come, go, and never come back for reasons both good and bad. Since he’s been an adult, Tyson hasn’t been able to visit children’s hospitals without dwelling on the idea of the kids who leave and never return. 

It’s 11:53 when Gabe texts him that he’s _waiting by the front desk_. Tyson takes a deep breath and heads for the entrance.

He walks under the big “Children’s Hospital” sign like he’s ripping off a bandaid. Gabe turns when he hears the doors open and gives Tyson one of his big, goofy grins. It immediately puts Tyson at ease, even as his brain works to throw up every wall it can find. “Hey, Tys!” Gabe calls, waving, as if Tyson can’t see him from four feet away.

“Hey,” Tyson responds, more because there are receptionists present and it would be rude to tell Gabe how stupid he’s being first thing than because he’s naturally polite.

“This is Allison,” Gabe says, gesturing to the lady behind the desk. “She was just explaining how to get to the play area where we’ll greet a bunch of the kids. Then we can walk around the halls a bit for the kids who can’t make it to the play area.” Gabe’s got a look in his eye like it’s Christmas morning and he just unwrapped the thing he’s been asking for all year. Tyson only hopes the look in his own eye does not so clearly convey his feelings.

“Great,” he manages to answer. Gabe either doesn’t notice the forced cheer or decides to spare Allison the drama of commenting on it. Tyson takes the badge Allison hands him, which just says “Avalanche Player” on it, and thanks her. 

In the elevator on the way to a room full of kids who Tyson has firmly decided will all live long, happy, and fulfilling lives, Gabe leans over to whisper in Tyson’s ear. “Thanks so much for coming, Tys. You saved my ass. Can you imagine me walking into a room full of kids alone when they’re expecting two guys?” he asks with eyebrows raised.

“They’d probably just be pissed you weren’t Nate,” Tyson teases, taking a guess at what he would’ve said in a normal situation. “They’ll probably still be pissed that neither one of us is Nate, actually,” he adds because it’s true, at least if jerseys are anything to go by. Gabe chuckles and leans away, but squeezes Tyson’s shoulder for good measure. He drops his hand right as the elevator doors open on a hallway. The unmistakable noise of kids playing and chattering is coming from the right, so they turn that way and head towards the play area. The sound is so utterly normal and healthy that it calms Tyson. He pastes a big smile on his face as he rounds the final corner into the play area.

“Hey, guys!” Gabe yells excitedly. Tyson waves as he comes in behind Gabe. The noise reaches a whole new level as several of the kids scream. After a moment, it returns to a manageable level, and Gabe continues. “I’m Gabe Landeskog, captain of the Colorado Avalanche, and this is Tyson Barrie, one of our best defensemen! Do any of you like hockey?” The room goes wild again. 

Tyson scans the room while Gabe goes on. As predicted, there are a lot of MacKinnon jerseys in attendance. There are quite a few jerseys that Gabe will probably be signing in the next few hours, too. He even sees several sporting Rants jerseys. If he weren’t standing in front of a room full of people, Tyson would roll his eyes. The top line bias is strong. To their credit, Tyson notes at least one Wilson jersey and a few for EJ. Then, in the back corner of the room, Tyson sees a little girl with a 4 on her sleeve pointing at him and looking excitedly back and forth between her mother and Tyson. She is gesturing wildly with her other hand and the mom is smiling and nodding, focused almost entirely on her daughter. Tyson feels his smile broaden and makes a mental note to visit with them first when Gabe’s little introductory spiel is over.

“Tys?” Gabe asks then, and Tyson assumes that this is the part where he gets to introduce himself. 

“Hi, everybody! I’m Tyson Barrie. I play defense for the Avs. Like Gabe here, I was drafted by the Avs and have never played for any other team in the NHL. I was born in Canada, on the west coast, in a place called Victoria, and I’ve always loved hockey. Actually, my dad used to play hockey, so I’ve been playing my whole life. So, if any of you has any questions about the game, I’m the one to ask. But, I’m more excited to talk to you guys about what you like!” A few of the kids laugh, a few shout out things they like, and the whole room erupts in chatter again. Gabe takes the opportunity to cut back in, which suits Tyson just fine. He’s better at individual conversation anyway.

“So, everyone can just keep playing where you are and we’ll come around to talk to all of you about your favorite things to do!” Gabe beams at the room in general and then turns and directs his attention to Tyson. A full-powered Gabe smile is just a lot and it takes Tyson a second to realize that Gabe is talking. “...you go back there first?” Gabe concludes, gesturing towards the back corner with the little girl. “I see you have a fan,” he adds with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, great,” Tyson replies, already turning and heading towards the back of the room. 

“Hey!” Tyson says cheerily when he reaches the girl and her mom. “I’m Tyson,” he says, sticking out his hand. “Wow, she looks just like you,” he adds to the mom, gesturing towards the little girl. 

“Megan,” the mom says, shaking his hand. “And this is Molly,” she adds, beaming at her daughter. “Everyone says she’s my mini-me.”

“Molly,” Tyson repeats. “Hi!” 

Molly’s smile takes up her entire tiny face. She’s wearing a home Avs jersey that is practically brushing the floor. She looks from her mom to Tyson a few times, then crosses her tiny arm in front of her chest, looks down, and proudly points to the number 4 on her sleeve. She looks back up at Tyson, smiling and still pointing at the number. Her brown eyes are open wide, sparkling with excitement. Tyson smiles and nods, pointing to his own number 4. Then he kneels down and offer his hand for a high-five, which Molly enthusiastically slaps. “What’s up, Molly?”

“She can’t hear or speak yet,” Megan says. “We’ll be getting cochlear implants once the doctors are sure she’s stable enough. They tell me she should be able to talk eventually, too.” Tyson looks at Megan, who is gesturing at a rapt Molly. He realizes, belatedly, that they’ve been speaking in sign language the whole time and feels like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner. 

“Oh,” he says, not sure where to go from here. He doesn’t know the first thing about sign language, other than waving hello. “How old is she?” he asks Megan instead.

Megan signs at Molly, who proudly holds up three little fingers. “Three, wow!” Tyson says, then glances back at Megan, sheepish. “Sorry, I don’t know any sign language.”

“She’s really good at reading emotions, actually. She’s starting to be able to read lips a little bit too. It definitely keeps me on my toes,” she adds, chuckling.

“That’s great,” Tyson adds. “Do you want me to sign her jersey?”

“Yes, please, she would...” Megan says, before stopping to watch Molly sign something, then laughing outright. “She would love that. She says you’re the best.” Molly, with a perpetual smile, bounces up and down to Tyson’s left. 

“Aww. How do I say thank you?” Tyson asks Megan, who brings her hand to her bottom lip and then pushes it forward and down. Tyson repeats the sign to Molly, who claps and giggles, then begins signing excitedly at her mom. 

“Hey, guys!” Gabe interrupts. “How is everyone?”

“Gabe, this is Megan and Molly,” Tyson says.

“Megan,” Gabe says, offering his hand to shake. Megan looks vaguely starstruck. Gabe kneels next to Tyson and reaches out to shake Molly’s hand. Molly shakes his hand briefly, pulls back, and again proudly points to the 4 on her arm. Gabe laughs. He points to himself and begins signing at Molly.

“Wait, you know sign language?” Tyson asks Gabe in disbelief.

“Just the alphabet,” Gabe says. “I just signed my name. That’s all I got.” He shrugs, as if this is common knowledge and no big deal. Molly puts her hands on her hips and nods at Gabe, eyebrows raised.

“I think she already knew your name, bud,” Tyson says, chuckling. He had been impressed but, clearly, Molly hadn’t been. Gabe looks back at Molly and laughs.

“Guess so,” he adds.

Molly waves her hand in front of her face and clenches her tiny fist with her thumb poking out between her pointer and middle fingers. Then she puts her hand to her lips, moves it to the side of her face and throws a very enthusiastic thumbs up as high in the air as possible. Megan starts laughing and both men turn to her for a translation. “She, uh, says Tyson is the best,” Megan explains, still unable to meet Gabe’s gaze directly. Tyson can relate.

“Ha!” Tyson exclaims. “This girl knows what she’s talking about!” He grins cheekily at Gabe.

“Well,” Gabe says with a smile, “I can’t disagree with Molly.” 

Tyson signs Molly’s jersey and reluctantly moves away to greet the rest of the waiting children. Later, he and Gabe walk the halls and visit with families in various rooms. There are so many pictures, Tyson will see the echo of a camera flash forever, probably. He’s signed tons of hockey cards, pictures, and even a MacKinnon jersey by the end of it. As he walks out of the hospital hours later, he’s still thinking about Molly, though.

“Thanks again for coming, Tys. I couldn’t have done that alone. You’re really great with the kids, too. Probably because you are one, but still,” Gabe says as they walk back to the parking lot.

Tyson shoves Gabe lightly, smiling. “I’m older than you, nerd.”

“Only biologically,” Gabe notes. “So, you going to meet Nate for food?”

“Eh, maybe later. I think I’m going to go to a bookstore and pick up a sign language book right now.” Gabe’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“You’re going to learn sign language?” he asks. Tyson’s not sure his tone is forgivable.

“I can learn things!” Tyson says, defensively. Gabe laughs.

“Of course you can, Tys. I’m just surprised. When you got here, you sort of looked like you wanted to be anywhere else. Now, you’re planning to learn sign language to, what, come visit that little girl?”

“Molly,” Tyson says immediately. “And yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Gabe responds, apparently deciding to let the issue rest, at least for now. “That’s very sweet of you, T-Bear. You’ll be Molly’s hero.”

“I already am Molly’s hero,” Tyson corrects. “I’m the best, remember?”

Gabe laughs, his eyes sparkling. “I can help you at least learn to sign your own name if you want,” he offers.

****

When Tyson was so rudely awakened this morning, he assumed he’d end up in some sort of gym sweating his ass off while trying to beat Gabe at some strength, agility, or endurance competition that he had absolutely no hope of winning. He did not expect he’d end up at a Barnes & Noble with Gabe in the language section. Yet, here they were, looking for books to help Tyson learn sign language. It’s funny how a little girl with big, brown eyes can throw a wrench in people’s plans. Honestly, Tyson greatly preferred the smell of books to the smell of sweaty hockey players, so this change was just fine with him. The only downside was that Gabe would probably be frowned at for taking off his shirt here.

After staring hopelessly at the shelf for a few minutes, Tyson reaches out and grabs the thickest book with “ASL” written on the binding and figures it will be a good enough start. Gabe tosses _Signing for Dummies_ on the top of Tyson’s choice with a shit-eating grin. Tyson glares back at him for a minute but figures it can’t really hurt, so he heads up to purchase both books. In line, he glances at his phone and sees a text from Nate. 

_Food?_ Tyson smiles. Nate has such a way with words.

_Not today._ Tyson writes back. _I have a Gabe thing_

_You’ve had a Gabe thing forever bro. Still gotta eat,_ Nate responds.

_Oh fuck off,_ Tyson says. _I’m with him now_

_I don’t want the details. Later,_ Nate replies.

“So now that you have the books, what’s the plan?” Gabe asks in the parking lot.

“Well, I’m going to take them home, then I’m going to read them,” Tyson responds. “That’s usually how it works.”

“Are you planning to get food first?” Gabe asks.

“I don’t know. You paying?” Tyson shoots back.

“Sure, babe,” Gabe replies, winking at Tyson. Which, that’s new. Tyson had been joking.

“I, uh,” Tyson starts. “Well, free food,” he concludes with a shrug as if that’s a full, coherent thought. Actually, given the circumstances, Tyson thinks he recovered admirably. Gabe’s laughing quietly, so maybe Tyson is making shit up, but who knows.

They walk to a deli a few doors down from the Barnes & Noble. It’s fairly crowded for a Monday evening, so Tyson grabs the first open table he sees. He puts his books down and turns to look for Gabe, then realizes that Gabe has gone up to the counter to order food. Tyson sits to wait his turn to order and opens the giant ASL book he picked up. It may have been more practical to wait to open these books until they were out of the vicinity of mayonnaise and potato chip grease, but Tyson is too excited to get started. He’s casually flipping through pages when Gabe comes to the table and sets down two trays.

“This one’s yours, Tys,” Gabe says, pushing one of the trays towards Tyson.

“Huh?” Tyson asks, looking up. “You didn’t even ask me what I—” Gabe cuts him off.

“Turkey and provolone, extra turkey, with lettuce and tomato, no onion, light mayonnaise, and a bag of barbeque chips,” Gabe explains, pointing at each item in turn. “And an unsweetened iced tea,” he adds.

“You’re perfect,” is a thing Tyson probably shouldn’t have said, but he’s amazed that Gabe got his exact order right without even asking. Gabe, for his part, smiles and ducks his head, sitting across from Tyson at the table. “How did you do that?” The question doesn’t exactly convey what Tyson is going for, but it’s close enough.

“I’m the captain,” Gabe says, picking up his sandwich. “It’s my job.”

“You know what every idiot on the team wants at a deli down to _light mayonnaise_?” Tyson asks, incredulous. 

“Oh, come on now, Tys,” Gabe responds. “You aren’t an idiot.” He bumps his knee against Tyson’s under the table.

“You are missing the point,” Tyson says, pointing at Gabe, “intentionally.” Gabe takes a huge bite of his sandwich and shrugs his shoulders. Tyson is skeptical of Gabe’s story, but he’s also hungry, so he digs into his tray of food and lets the subject drop for now.

****

Two hours later, Tyson’s staring at Gabe’s perfect face, which is attached to his perfect body, which is currently positioned on Tyson’s couch. Gabe is staring intently down at the _Signing for Dummies_ book, which appears to be explaining some of the more common sign language jokes. Tyson has the giant ASL book in his own lap and has been working on the basic conversation section. For the most part, the two men have been studying their respective books in a companionable silence since getting back from the deli, but Tyson has just now stopped to consider how odd it is that Gabe is here, in Tyson’s house, studying sign language at six o’clock on a Monday night. Tyson is doing it to be able to talk to Molly, but Gabe hadn’t even remembered Molly’s name when they left the hospital.

“What are you doing here?” Tyson asks. Gabe looks up, puzzled.

“What do you mean? I’ve been here for like an hour,” Gabe explains, looking at Tyson like he’s lost his mind. “Like, literally right here. I haven’t moved.”

“No, I mean, why are you here studying sign language? You didn’t even remember Molly,” Tyson tries.

“I can’t let you go back by yourself, Tys. You’ll get mobbed in that place alone,” Gabe answers.

“Okay,” Tyson replies, still lost. “You don’t have to learn sign language to go back to the Children’s Hospital, though. I appreciate you helping me with the alphabet earlier, but you don’t have to learn all this stuff just to help me learn it. I’m pretty sure between these books and YouTube I can figure it out.” Now Gabe is chuckling, so adding extra words has clearly not helped Tyson get his point across.

“I can’t just let you and Molly go off and talk about how great you are. She needs a reasonable point of view to consider,” Gabe says. 

“If you try to turn Molly against me, I will retaliate, Gabriel,” Tyson says firmly. 

“I would never,” Gabe assures him, raising his hands defensively and laughing.

****

Tyson adds the sign language books to his luggage when the team travels next. He ends up in Gabe’s hotel room and they sit in silence, speaking to each other only in fumbling signs. As the season goes on, they meet at every opportunity, both at home and on the road, and work on their sign language skills. Even at team practice one day, Gabe signs at Tyson rather than yelling across the rink. The rest of the guys look at each other and shrug. The next drill results in a spectacular goal for Gabe, who goes over and high-fives Tyson, then taps him on the ass, laughing.

As they’re leaving practice, Nate asks Tyson what Gabe said. Tyson shrugs. “He just told me where to pass it,” he explains. As Tyson’s best friend, Nate knows what Tyson and Gabe have been doing and why, along with probably more details than he wanted about what Gabe wears and how his abs flex when he moves. It isn’t Tyson’s fault that Nate chooses to listen to him, though. 

“It was a sick pass,” Nate says.

“Thanks,” Tyson replies.

“Also, Gabe’s in love with you,” Nate adds, casually, as if that isn’t a groundbreaking and frankly ridiculous thing to say. Tyson stops moving halfway into the passenger’s seat of Nate’s car. He also stops breathing for a few seconds. When he regains control over his body, he drops the rest of the way into his seat unceremoniously.

“What the hell?” Tyson asks.

“You’re in love with Gabe, yes?” Nate asks.

“I mean, he’s gorgeous and all—” Tyson starts, then gets cut off.

“Correction, you’re in love with Gabe, period.” Nate says. “And Gabe is in love with you.”

“You’re insane,” Tyson decides.

“I don’t even know how you can _not_ know this,” Nate says. “It’s very obvious. To everyone.”

“It’s not—”

“Everyone, Tys. It’s obvious to everyone,” Nate interrupts again. “And it’s kind of annoying that neither of you will do anything about it.”

“I...” Tyson starts again, then stops. “What?”

“You and Landy, man. Make it happen,” Nate says, as if that’s a thing that Tyson can just do.

****

The next night, Gabe and Tyson are back in Tyson’s living room getting some last-minute studying in before the team’s annual Christmas visit to the Children’s Hospital the next day. Tyson has already confirmed with the Hospital that Molly will be invited to the team visit gathering, so he wants to make sure he knows what to say to her. He has a half-planned speech that he’s been working on for days. He’s going to ask Molly all about her favorite things—color, animal, toy, and book. He’s also going to thank her for the support and invite her to a game. He’s practicing signing with Gabe when he mentions attending the Stars game.

“Wait,” Gabe says out loud, startling Tyson. He’s gotten used to the silence when he and Gabe are alone, because they usually talk in sign language if they need to say anything. Having to finger spell words is annoying, so they look up the signs for the words they need, forcing them to learn faster. This is how they’ve gotten close to conversational in only a couple months. “You’re inviting them to the Stars game? Did you clear that with PR and everything?”

“I bought them tickets,” Tyson says. “I didn’t talk to PR.” Gabe’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You actually bought the tickets? You know you don’t have to do that, right?” Gabe says. “If you just ask—”

“Yeah, I know, but I got them ice seats, so,” Tyson trails off.

“You bought them ice seats?” Gabe asks, disbelieving. “Tys, what is with this girl? Do you have a thing for her mom or something?”

“No,” Tyson says a little too forcefully. “I am not doing this for Megan and I do not have a thing for her.” He glares at Gabe for good measure.

“Sorry, Tys,” Gabe says. It could be wishful thinking, but Tyson almost thinks Gabe is blushing. “I didn’t really mean that, I just don’t get it. Buying ice seats for a three year old girl you met once?”

“I...” Tyson starts, not sure how to explain. “She reminds me of someone,” he says, looking away from Gabe. They let the silence sit in the room for a minute, then Gabe puts his hand on Tyson’s knee and squeezes lightly. Tyson swallows and goes on. “When I was growing up, there was this kid, Braden. He went to my school. I met him in kindergarten and we became really good friends. In first grade, he got sick. I spent a lot of time with him at the hospital.” Tyson breaks, taking a breath. He looks at Gabe, whose hand is still on Tyson’s knee, and he’s gazing solemnly back at Tyson.

“I, uh,” Tyson starts, but it’s too hard to continue while looking at Gabe, so he looks back down at his hands resting in his lap. He clears his throat to continue. “There were always different kids coming and going. We’d see one kid one month and the next month it would be a new kid. Sometimes they’d come back and, well, sometimes they wouldn’t. Sometimes it would be because they got better and didn’t need the hospital anymore. Sometimes it would be… the other reason.” Tyson stops again, gazing out the window for a second. “I would see nurses crying. I don’t know if I really understood. My mom always used to tell me that all the kids we didn’t see anymore got better, but even at that age, you know.” Tyson coughs.

“Anyway, I, uh, don’t love children’s hospitals,” Tyson concludes lamely, shrugging one shoulder. “But Molly was so positive. She reminded me of Braden; he was the same way.” Tyson turns and looks at Gabe, who is still staring back at him.

“What happened?” Gabe asks quietly.

“To Braden?” Tyson asks. “I don’t know, actually. He was doing better and then his family moved in the third grade. We lost touch.” Tyson shrugs again. Gabe nods, then moves his hand from Tyson’s knee and wraps his arm firmly around Tyson’s shoulders. He pulls Tyson in so that he’s half laying on Gabe’s chest. Tyson allows himself to be moved, then lays his head back against Gabe’s chest, putting his legs up on the sofa. They sit like that in silence, Tyson’s head moving slightly up and down with each breath Gabe takes. Tyson lets his eyes drift closed.

After a few minutes, Gabe sighs, then bends his head down to kiss the top of Tyson’s head lightly. “Tys?” Gabe asks softly.

“Hmm,” Tyson responds.

“We should get to bed,” Gabe says. Tyson can hear the regret in his voice. To be honest, Tyson doesn’t really want to move either, but unfortunately Gabe is right.

“Yeah, we should,” Tyson agrees. He takes another few breaths, then forces himself to sit up. He rubs his eyes and looks over at the sign language books sitting on the coffee table. Gabe’s hand lands on his arm.

“You’ve got it,” he says. “You’re going to do great and she’s going to be so happy.” Tyson gives Gabe a weak smile. “Go on. Go upstairs and get to bed. I’ll be here at ten to pick you up.”

“Actually,” Tyson says, plunging ahead before he can think twice, “do you want to just stay?”

Gabe’s eyes go wide for a second, but then a smile stretches across his face. “Stay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I, well,” Tyson starts, stumbling on his words. “I want you to and Nate seems to think you might want to, too, and, well, I figured I’d ask,” he concludes. It’s not the way this sort of thing is supposed to go at all, but nothing that’s supposed to be smooth and romantic ever seems to work out that way when Tyson’s the one doing it. He looks up at Gabe, who is smiling indulgently, and signs _please?_

Gabe’s smile grows and he signs back, _of course_.

****

The next day, the team has arranged it so that the players will visit individual rooms before going to the play area to meet with the larger group. Tyson enjoys the visits, but does them somewhat impatiently, knowing that he won’t see Molly until they get to the play area. When they do get there, he makes a beeline for Megan and Molly, who are seated in the back. Molly is wearing another 4 jersey, but in away colors today. Again, it reaches almost to her feet. With wide eyes, Molly turns and looks up at Tyson when he taps on her shoulder.

_Hi, Molly!_ Tyson signs, spelling out her name. _It’s me, Tyson! Do you remember me?_

Molly nods excitedly, then stops and gets a confused look on her face. _You’re signing_ , she signs.

_I learned how so we could talk,_ Tyson answers. Molly smiles so wide that Tyson can count her teeth. Next to her, Megan gasps and puts a hand over her mouth. “Hi, Megan,” Tyson adds with a smile, before turning back to Molly. He sits down on the floor, cross-legged, and Molly copies him.

_So, Molly,_ Tyson starts again in sign language, spelling Molly’s name, but Molly stops him.

She points to herself, then makes a letter M with her right hand, covers it with her left hand, and wiggles the thumb that’s sticking out between the ring and pinky fingers on her right hand. “It’s her sign name,” Megan explains, catching sight of Tyson’s confused look. “We call her turtle because she used to look like one when she slept. She’d sleep under the blankets with her head sticking out one end and her feet sticking out the other end. So, her sign name is the sign for turtle, but with the letter M.” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Tyson says, laughing.

Then, Molly points to Tyson. She waves her hand in front of her face, closing her fingers together at the end with her thumb sticking out between her pointer and middle fingers. Tyson recognizes the sign for beautiful, which usually ends with a closed fist, but which Molly had ended with the letter T. “That’s-” Megan starts, but Tyson cuts her off.

“T-Beauty,” he says with wonder in his voice. “I saw her do that the last time I was here, but I had no idea what it meant.”

_Thank you,_ he signs to Molly. _I think you’re beautiful._ She blushes. _What’s your favorite color?_ Tyson asks, reverting to his pre-planned questions.

_Blue,_ she answers enthusiastically, pointing to the sleeve of Tyson’s jersey for emphasis.

He laughs and says, _me too_.

Tyson feels a little bad about it, but he spends most of the time in the play area sitting and talking to Molly in sign language. There are a few words he stumbles on, but Molly helps him work through it. A few questions in, Megan excuses herself and Tyson notices she’s crying. He stays with Molly while Megan gets a tissue. When she comes back, Tyson invites them to the Stars game and gives them the tickets. Megan accepts gratefully. Molly jumps up and down clapping and laughing, which Tyson figures is probably a yes.

When they’re done talking, Tyson signs Molly’s away jersey for her, then looks up to see Gabe smiling fondly at him from across the room. _Can they come to the game?_ he asks. 

_Yes,_ Tyson replies with a wide smile.

_Good,_ Gabe answers, then turns to greet another kid who’s tugging on his pant leg. 

****

Later that night, Tyson and Gabe are laying cuddled up on Tyson’s bed. They had done this last night, too, but Tyson was so emotionally drained and tired by the time they went to bed that his brain didn’t have time to think about it too much. Tonight is an entirely different story. His brain is going a mile a minute trying to decide how he got to the point where he’s cuddled up in his bed with Gabriel Landeskog, perfect Swedish God-man, pressed against his back. Tyson is working to keep his breathing even and his arousal in check. Nothing would be worse than ruining this before he’s even figured it out.

“Tys?” Gabe asks. The question is soft, almost whispered into Tyson’s ear, but somehow Gabe’s deep voice still reverberates in Tyson’s head. Tyson wills himself not to tense up in Gabe’s arms.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice strained. He doesn’t know how people stay so cool in these situations.

“I love you,” Gabe says. His voice is still soft, but the shock of the words is so strong that he may as well have shouted them at the top of his lungs. Tyson sucks in a breath and then stops breathing altogether. His eyes are wide open and all of his muscles are tensed. Gabe runs his hand up and down Tyson’s arm. After a moment, Tyson’s lungs force him to move so he can start breathing again. Tyson slowly flips over to face Gabe.

“What?” he says. It’s probably not the best response. Tyson knows full well what Gabe said. His brain has already recorded it and replayed it at least ten times. Still, there’s part of Tyson that doesn’t believe what he heard. There’s an even bigger part of Tyson that just wants to hear it again. 

Gabe smiles shyly, which is somewhat strange, and blushes. Still, he keeps eye contact with Tyson as he says, “I love you,” again, which makes him a much braver man than Tyson. “I already had a thing for you going back to last season, but watching you learn sign language and interact with Molly has been what I’ve looked forward to the most these past couple of months. You’re just a really great guy to do that for her. You made her day today, not to mention how much it meant to her mom. And I love you.”

Tyson breathes out, unconscious of how long he’d been holding the air in his lungs. Then, he leans in and presses his lips against Gabe’s gently, staying there for a few moments before pulling back. He looks in Gabe’s eyes for a minute, kisses Gabe again, and pulls back again. Gabe seems content to let Tyson work through this new information in silence. He lays, looking at Tyson, smiling. Of course, they had spent plenty of time in silence the past couple months, so they're both fairly comfortable with it. 

Tyson kisses Gabe one more time, a little harder, and feels the way his heart pounds in his chest when he does. He puts his hand on Gabe’s cheek, then runs it through his hair, then rests it on his hip. Finally, Tyson pulls back and meets Gabe’s gaze. “I love you, too,” he says, and leans in to kiss Gabe again, because that is never going to get old.


End file.
